


You Have Won My Affections

by LasciviousPeach



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, totally ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LasciviousPeach/pseuds/LasciviousPeach
Summary: So here they were, two important executives making the four hour drive to New York like a bunch of fucking hillbillies.(aka Alexander and Jefferson are forced to take a trip together to New York.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a slut for mutual pining.  
> This was inspired by Rafael Casal's Instagram story where he and Daveed ran out of gas.

Alexander stood silently, the clock that hung on his wall ticking off the minutes excruciatingly slowly. He’s hand is wrapped tightly around the handle of his suitcase, as he stares out the window. It’s not even four o’clock in the morning yet, but he’s waiting somewhat patiently for the bane of his existence to pick him up. It’s almost thirty minutes after the time they agreed to leave at, that Alexander sees Jefferson’s annoyingly nice car pull up outside the curb of the apartment he shares with Lafayette. It’s a new model, sleek black with tinted windows. It makes his own 2007 Prius pale in comparison.

He heaves his heavily packed suitcase out the door, and doesn’t bother locking up. There’s a good chance that Lafayette will take Alexander’s absence as a reason to invite Washington over, and Lafayette _never_ remembers his keys. The last thing he wants is a call from his roommate (who happens to be dating his boss) while he’s trying not to kill his co worker.

Jefferson doesn’t even bother getting out of the car; he just pops the trunk and lets Alexander spend a good four minutes trying to lift the suitcase into the back while holding his coffee. Eventually, Alexander pounds his fist against the back of the car and Jefferson’s door open almost immediately. Jefferson’s hair is loose around his face in a halo of artfully messy ringlets and there’s a pair of black thick rimmed glasses sitting across the bridge of his nose. He’s wearing a pair of light wash jeans that hug his hips so nicely and a black sweater that highlights the broadness of his shoulders. Jefferson looks half asleep - not that Alexander blames him, it’s fucking early - and he looks so annoyed that Alexander can’t help but crack a smile. It sucks that they got roped into this road trip from Hell, but at least he knows Jefferson’s as miserable as he is.

“Hamilton.” The man almost growls, and Alexander has to hide his glee behind the sleeve of his grey sweater.

“Greeting, Thomas. Wonderful morning we’re having isn’t it.” Alexander responds, gesturing to their surroundings with the hand that isn’t grasping his scorching beverage.

Jefferson furrows his brow as he looks at their darkened surroundings. His eyes narrow and he looks at Alexander with obvious disgust, “Get in the fucking car.”

He leaves Jefferson to put his things in the back and climbs in the passenger side. It’s spacious enough that Alexander can stretch his legs out comfortable, as he wiggles around on the annoyingly nice leather seats. Jefferson’s got the heat on full blast and he can hear Tchaikovsky on the radio; which is strange. The man has terrible taste in everything: food, opinions, friends (seriously Madison was _such_ a flake). But Tchaikovsky? _And_ especially Symphony No.6? Alexander has to admit that respects the Virginian a little more than. That respect, of course, fades away the second said Virginian enters the car and opens his obnoxious mouth.

“You look terrible. Where’d you get that sweater? The Revolutionary Era?”

Alexander just rolls his eyes and regrets not adding a little liquor to his coffee.

The ride to New York is silent, Jefferson’s music the only noise in the car. Alexander’s mind isn’t silent, though, and he’s thinking through plans of action to get revenge on Washington. He’s not even sure how he got roped into this in the first place.

Alexander remembers Washington making an announcement during one of their weekly office meetings. He had said something inconsequential about needing two executives to fly out to New York for a conference. It was honestly just his luck that Washington pulled his name out of the hat, a literal hat, and _of fucking course_ Jefferson would have been the only person in the office suitable to join him. And _of fucking course_ , the company was too strapped on funds to pay for two plane tickets. And like hell would Alexander cough up two hundred dollars on a trip he didn’t even want to take in the first place. Jefferson was more than willing to pay for his ticket, but he refused to pay for Alex’s, and Washington insisted, “You will either fly together or drive together. No exceptions.” So here they were, two important executives making the four hour drive to New York like a bunch of fucking hillbillies.

There’re about halfway to New York when Jefferson pulls off to the side of the road. Alexander, who was almost asleep, grudgingly sits up in his seat and looks out the window. The sky was still are dark black, the sun not even close to the horizon. He looks at the clock which reads fifteen past six and then drags his gaze to the other man in the car.

“Why are we stopped?”

Jefferson looks over at him, obviously surprised to see that he is awake. He frowns, removing his glasses, before he begins to rub at the bridge of his nose. He slides them on after a moment and turns to Alexander, “It would appear that we are out of gas.”

Alexander snorts at the joke and settles father into his seat. It’s after a moment when they don’t move that he peeks back up at the Virginian. Jefferson sits there unmoving. His hands are palm up on his lap, and he’s sporting the most annoyed look on his face that Alexander has ever seen. That makes Alexander sit up straighter, “Oh my God, you were serious.”

Jefferson’s jaw is clenched and he turns his cold gaze to Alexander, “Wow, Hamilton, impressive deductive reasoning skills.” His voice portrays nothing but exhaustion and annoyance.

Alexander stares unblinking at the other man, “When was the last time you got gas?”

“When I picked the car up.”

“When you picked the car up?” Alexander sputters, snorting as the words leave his mouth, “You didn’t think about getting gas before we started a trip that’s at least four hours? You’re stupider than I thought.”

“I wouldn’t have had to worry about getting gas if you would have spent a measly 200 dollars on a flight, you utter cheapskate. You’ll pay Reynolds over a grand to keep him quiet about your affair but you can’t spend a forth of that for a flight?”

Alexander’s breath catches at the mention of James Reynolds. He’d tried to put those events behind him. He couldn’t undo it, couldn’t change it, but he could let it go. Eliza had forgiven him, they were friends now. He didn’t need assholes like Jefferson dragging it up every time they got pissy.

“Don’t you dare bring that up. We all have chapters we don’t read outloud, Jefferson, so you can fuck off.” Before he says it, Alexander knows it’s a weak retort. He’s just so tired and he’s so sick of sitting in this car and being this close to a guy he sort of hates.

And by sort of hates he means ridiculously in love with.

He’s pathetic and he’d be the first to admit it. Hopelessly pining over the asshole that makes his life miserable? Classy, Hamilton. Really classy.

He wants to argue, but rationally he knows there’s no way that’s going to help. “What are going to do? We’re two hours away from DC and New York?” He asks, suddenly wishing he had thought to grab something to eat for the trip. His stomach was growling, and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate. Yesterday at lunch? No, he had skipped in order to finish his essay about TPP. Shit, that means he hasn’t eaten for two days.

“I sent a message to Madison.”

Alexander blinks, “Madison would drive two hours to bring us gas?”

Jefferson rolls his eyes before he speaks, “Do you not have any friends that would drive two hours for you?”

He knows Jefferson doesn’t actually want an answer, but it strikes something within him. Does he have any friends that would drive two hours for him? He wants to believe that anyone in his squad™ would show up if he asked, but would they?

“I don’t know.”

Jefferson’s face softens a fraction of an inch, and then their immersed in silence. It’s interrupted a moment later by Jefferson’s phone vibrating. The Virginian sighs in relief, “He’s coming to bring us gas.”

“That’s good.” Alexander says and after a beat, “What are we supposed to do for the two hours it takes for him to get here?”

“I don’t know, Alexander. Why don’t you go back to sleep or something?”

Alexander snorts, “Why, so you two can smother me in my sleep?”

“As insufferable as you are, I would never risk going to prison just to kill you. And Lord knows Washington would make sure that’s where I ended up.”

They enter another bout of silence, the only sound is their mutual breathing and the sparse cars that pass them. It’s unnerving, the silence, Alexander’s leg shakes up and down as he sits still. He’s never been silent with Jefferson before; they’re always bickering or annoying each other, but they’re never silent.

As it so happens whenever he gets restless, Alexander bursts out whatever thought occurs to him. “Want to play twenty questions?”

The look he gets could freeze Hell, “What are you? A teenage girl at her first slumber party?”

“Sorry, just trying to make conversation.” He pauses, “What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple, and please feel free to shut the fuck up.”

He lets his head fall back and hit the headrest. Jefferson lowers his seat and stretches out the best he can in the tight confines of the car. He raises his hands to tangle them above his head, and Alexander’s breath hitches in the silence of the car when he sees Jefferson’s black sweater shift up, revealing an inch of smooth dark skin. He flushes like a teenage girl speaking to her crush for the first time and looks out the window. The sun is barely poking above the horizon, offering just a little light to the sky. He chances a look back at Jefferson and tries to be subtle as he lets his eyes scope out the other man’s figure.

“Staring is rude, you know.” Comes his Southern accent, and Alexander forces his gaze up to meet Jefferson’s eyes. The man’s offering him an unimpressed smirk as his glasses fall down the bridge of his nose.

He looks away and the silence envelopes them once again. Then Jefferson speaks, “How’s your boyfriend feel about you coming on this trip?”

“Boyfriend?”

Jefferson glares, “Laurens.”

“I’m not sure how you got the impression that Laurens and I are dating, but I assure you we’re not.”

Jefferson’s quiet for a moment and when he speaks his voice is different, deeper maybe. “Why aren’t you. I mean you have to know the kid’s interested in you. The way he fawns over you at your desk.”

Of course Alexander knows this, he’s not dumb. He knows what those sweet words and shy touches mean. Laurens would be good for him. They’d be good for each other. They’d be enough. But alas, he’s heart is elsewhere, and as much as he wishes he could love John. Well, love doesn’t work like that.

“John understands that my affections are elsewhere.”

“Are they with Eliza still?”

He flashes Jefferson an amused smile, “No, not anymore. What’s with all the questions? I believe when I asked you to play twenty one questions, you told me to shut the fuck up.”

Jefferson chokes out a laugh. “Who are your affections with then? Lafayette? Because I’m pretty sure he’s fucking Washington.”

Alexander thinks of a way to phrase his words without being glaringly obvious, “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“I have to disagree with you once again, Alexander. I really do want to know. Is it Washington, or maybe Jemmy? Or Angelica?”

The random name guessing is starting to get on Alexander’s nerves. He decides to just get Jefferson to shut up before he blurts out something stupid like, “you!”

“He doesn’t return them, Jefferson, so I’d rather not discuss hypotheticals.”

He looks over at Jefferson when the man speaks, “Well I guess we’re in the same pair of sucky shoes. The one who has won my affections barely acknowledges my existence.”

Alexander feels jealousy eat away inside him. Of course Jefferson would have his eyes on someone. “I’d rather have mine not acknowledge me than to know how much he hates me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Alexander’s head snaps up so fast, he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash, “What did you just say?”

Jefferson, for the most part, looks like he wants the ground to open and swallow him whole. “I said I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“No you didn’t. You said _I._ You said that you don’t hate me.”

Jefferson looks out his window and that’s when Alexander knows for sure. He knows that Jefferson knows.

“How did you even find out?” Alexander asks, too mortified to think of anything to say besides that.

Jefferson’s eyes meet his again, “Lafayette might have let it slip when we we were drinking.”

He’s so embarrassed that he feels sick. Alexander isn’t one for nervousness, but right now he feels the like the nerves in his stomach on fire. He’s mortified; mortified that Jefferson knows and that it was his closest friend and roommate that told him. His face is bright red as he swallows around the pain building in his chest. Bile rises in his throat as he imagines just what Jefferson could do with this information. Tell the whole office? Yes. Blackmail him? Yes. Embarrass him in front of really important people? Yes. All of the above? Yes.

“If you already knew, why did you ask about the others? Why ask if I was dating Laurens or interesting in James?”

Jefferson bites his lower lips and sits up, “I needed to know that he was telling the truth.”

“So you can make my life hell?”

Jefferson’s lips twitch up and he moves even closer, “No Alexander, so I can do this.”

He leans in slowly and presses their lips together. Alexander’s mind short circuits and he immediately falls forward to respond in kind. Jefferson’s as good with his mouth and Alex had hoped, applying just the right amount of pressure and sliding his lips just right to make Alexander hum into the kiss.

  
They break apart for a second, only to have Alexander push back in to kiss him again. He quickly got used to the feeling of Jefferson. The feeling of his hands in Alex’s hair, his lips against Alex’s own, the feeling of his beard. It is chartatic and painstakingly slow.

The second time they break, Jefferson whispers silently into his ear.

“I know deductive reasoning is one of your strong suits, but I’ll say it in case you haven’t figured it out yet.” His words are whispers across the shell of Alexander’s ear, “You are the one who has won my affections.” A sweet sigh, “It’s always been you, Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally ridiculous but I wanted some fluff so...  
> Come say hi or send me prompts on my tumblr: willieverbesatisfied


End file.
